


You're So Uniquely You

by skymageariel



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22398409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skymageariel/pseuds/skymageariel
Summary: Callum loves his viola. Rayla... not so much. In fact, for years, Rayla found herself disliking many aspects of playing the instrument, including the pretentious first chair player in her orchestra class, Callum. However, as the school year comes to a close, Callum and Rayla get paired for their final project, much to their dismay. But as they work together for two weeks straight, both of them realize the other has quite a bit to offer.
Relationships: Rayllum (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 116





	You're So Uniquely You

**Author's Note:**

> Index
> 
> Time Signature: The time signature refers to the fraction shown at the beginning of a piece. The time signature tells the player how many beats are in a measure, and what type of note gets the beat. Common time is 4/4, which means there’s four beats in a measure, and the quarter note gets the beat. Another example of a time signature is 6/8. Six beats a measure, eighth note gets the beat.  
> Key Signature: The key signature refers to the amounts of sharps or flats in a piece. The key signature tells the player what key the piece is in.  
> Dynamics: Dynamics are markings that tell the player how loud and how soft to play. For example, f indicates forte, meaning to play loudly, and p indicates piano, meaning to play softly.  
> Seating: In any type of orchestral ensemble, seating acts as a way to rank the players. First chair is usually the best of the section, and a leader to others who play that instrument. Second chair is second best, third chair is third best, and so on. Often times, the first two chairs in an orchestra are referred to as the “principal players” because they share the first stand.  
> Accidentals: Accidentals indicate abnormalities in notes that don’t adhere to the key signature.
> 
> Strings Anatomy  
> Bow: The long piece of wood with suspended horsehair along the length, used by string players to make sounds by pressing the horsehair on the strings and pulling.  
> Bridge: The little wooden piece that sits on the face of the stringed instrument and holds the four strings up via suspension.  
> Face: The front side of the instrument.  
> Fingerboard: The black piece of wood that travels up the neck of the instrument. Players place their fingers there to change the pitch of the string.  
> Tuning pegs/fine tuners: Knobs and dials that tighten or loosen the string to make sure the string plays the correct pitch.

From the start of his freshman year in high school, Callum was sure of one thing and one thing only; he wanted to be a music major. He’d been playing viola since 4th grade- a solid five years of experience under his belt. Plus a plethora of extra skills from years of private lessons. It wasn’t a surprise when Callum auditioned for all-county orchestra, then tri-county, then all-state, and was the first chair in all three of the prestigious ensembles. The kid practiced like a monster. Frankly, it was a miracle he hadn’t messed up his hand from stretching it so far for so long.

Rayla, on the other hand, needed a fine arts credit to graduate. Through middle school, she’d taken orchestra and played viola just fine. She wasn’t spectacular. In fact, she didn’t mind being in the last chair every year. So her expectations for orchestra her freshman year were quite low.

**Thursday; 15 Days Until the Deadline**

The end of the year was coming up fast. The spring concert was months ago, and the class had nothing really left to do. Despite the lack of a workload, students were still expected to show up each day ready to learn something new. First period orchestra- Callum’s safe haven, the perfect way to start the day. Principal player, rosin and music at the ready, Callum was always one of the first to be well and adjusted for the start of class. Meanwhile, the back row reeked of apathy; Rayla barely had her instrument out when the class began. 

“I know summer is coming up fast, but we still need to take a final exam for this quarter’s big product grade,” Ms. Opeli announced. Most of the class groaned, except for Callum, who smiled in anticipation, and Rayla, who hadn’t been listening. “This year, we are all going to try our hand at composition.”

Callum’s mind raced with ideas. Composition- maybe that’s what he’d major in. He’d love to become one of the great composers, one people knew by name. 

“In a minute, I’m going to split you off into groups of two or three. In those groups, you’ll work together to arrange a piece at least one minute long in any key signature you like,” she said. Many students shifted uncomfortably. They, like Rayla, were there for the credit. Ms. Opeli pulled up a chart on the board, names in boxes. 

“I’ve predetermined your groups,” she said, and a large groan escaped the class. “Find your partners and get started. The project is due in two weeks- before school ends.”

Callum looked up at the board, searching for his name. There it was, at the bottom of the chart, next to- Rayla Dove.

Rayla Dove? Callum scowled. Seriously? Out of all the possible people he could have been paired with it had to be Rayla. No offense, but Callum had heard her play, and that girl sucked. And frankly, she just didn’t care as much as he did. She was a slacker. The way Callum saw it, she was last chair for a reason. This project was not going to be fun.

Rayla noticed the first chair kid glowering at her. She looked at the board and saw her name next to...

Callum Walker? Really? That guy was so annoying. Always telling the section what to do, trying to help everyone like he knew best. He was so pretentious with his stupid rosin. Rayla didn’t even own her own rosin. How was she supposed to work with him for two whole weeks? They hated each other.

Around them the class had already broken off into their respective groups, chatting excitedly about possibilities. Callum rolled his eyes and motioned for Rayla to join him in the chair vacant next to him. With a sigh Rayla moved up.

Sitting in the first row was new for Rayla. She didn’t like how tight everything was. The director’s stand was so close. And the cellos were right next to her. How would she be able to hear herself playing with those monstrosities ringing in her ear? No, thanks, the back row was just fine, in her opinion.

They sat next to each other in awkward silence. Neither of them wanted to be next to the other. Callum was the first to break the silence.

“So… I was thinking. What if we did, like, a faster piece. Something in a difficult time signature. Show off what we can do. Maybe we’ll get extra credit.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “And what time signature did you have in mind?”

“6/8.”

“No way,” Rayla scowled. 6/8 was her enemy. 6/8 was the worst. Six beats a measure, flowing like a waltz forever and ever. Seemingly endless counting, and no matter how slow the tempo, it didn’t matter with 6/8 because Rayla felt like she could never keep up. “Not worth the extra credit. We do common time or I don’t do the project.”

“Okay, if you’re going to be like this for the next two weeks, we’re not going to get anything done,” Callum grumbled. “So we play in common. Now let’s talk style.” Callum laid his viola across his lap. “Baroque.”

“Classical,” Rayla countered. “It’s easier.”

“Classical like the _St. Paul’s Suite_?”

“Never heard of it, but if it’s easy, then whatever.” Rayla crossed her arms and Callum rolled his eyes. 

“This is why I didn’t want to work with the last chair,” he mumbled. Rayla pretended not to hear. Callum pulled out his phone and typed _St. Paul’s Suite_ into the browser. He clicked the first video to come up. Two second in and Rayla could tell that it was going to be a terrible two weeks. The piece was monstrous. If Callum had something in mind like _that_ for a simple duet, Rayla would quit right then and there.

“No, absolutely not,” Rayla said, almost laughing. “I’m not working this hard for something I don’t really care about.”

Callum frowned and put the phone on his stand, music still playing. “Come on, it’s fun. And it will be a fun challenge for you.”

“Bold of you to assume I want to challenge myself,” Rayla said.

“Fine then. What did you have in mind.”

“Viola duet version of _Pachelbel's Canon_ ,” Rayla smirked.

“That’s way too easy. And boring.”

“Perfect.”

“No, we need a challenge,” Callum countered, growing agitated. Rayla rolled her eyes.

“Do you want to waste time on this dumb grade or get it done with as little work as possible?” she said, leaning back in her chair.

“I want to put as much work as possible into this project. This is important to me.”

“Pretentious.”

“Slacker.”

“Ooh, good one,” Rayla said sarcastically as the bell rang to end the first period. “See you tomorrow, know-it-all,” she muttered, slapping a sticky note with her phone number on the stand as she left. Callum huffed.

“Ms. Opeli?” he said, finding her behind her desk. “I need a new partner.”

“Sorry, no switching,” Ms. Opeli said without looking up from her computer.

“But you don’t understand, Rayla isn’t- we’re not- it just won’t work. She doesn’t care as much as I do.” As soon as Callum said those words, Ms. Opeli folded her hands and stared up at him.

“Look,” she began. “It’s very clear to me that you feel like Rayla will hold you back.”

“Yes, exactly-”

“So then why don’t you push her forwards, instead?” A warning bell rang overhead. “You should head to your next class.”

That night, Callum sat on his bed with his viola case open next to him. The strings were begging to be played. His fingers twitched, wanting so badly to dance across the strings. Callum picked up the instrument, but was caught off guard by the paper that unstuck from the wood and floated down like a leaf. Rayla’s phone number. He picked up the paper by the corner, thinking. He could call her, debate with her on why this project was important, argue about difficulty levels, try to agree on key and time signatures. 

_Or_ he could write his own piece to give to her. He could make it in whatever key he wanted, whatever time signature he wanted. If Rayla really didn’t care as much as she said she did, would she really even mind if the hard part was done for her?

Mischievous, Callum grinned and opened his laptop. He was excited to compose, excited to create. He wouldn’t let some apathetic last-chair pull him down.Maybe he’d take Ms. Opeli’s advice and just… push her forward.

**Friday; 14 Days Until the Deadline**

In orchestra the next day, Callum found himself excited to share his piece with Rayla. The second viola part wasn’t too crazy. Sure, it was mostly eighth notes and moved pretty quickly, but with practice, Rayla would manage. 

When Rayla appeared next to a beaming Callum in class, she couldn’t help but raise a brow.

“What are you so happy about?” she grumbled. Callum pulled out his laptop 

“I did the hard part last night,” he said, opening his laptop and hitting play. “Of course, we can make revisions, but I was thinking-”

“Shut up,” Rayla said, holding up a hand to keep him from talking. She listened to the piece, trying to keep her face neutral. There was no denying it was beautiful, but it was way too hard. Rayla sincerely hoped she was playing the second viola part, but even then the notes were ridiculous. Who puts triplets in 3/4 time? The whole song is a triplet with that time signature. Callum was smiling, and it was obvious he was really proud of his work, but Rayla was watching the second viola part with dismay. She wouldn’t be able to pull that off ever, let alone two weeks

The piece finished a minute later and Rayla shook her head.

“No. No way,” she said. Callum’s face fell. 

“What?! Why not?”

“It’s way too hard. I can’t do that. It needs to be easier,” Rayla said, shutting the laptop.

“We can't have a good piece if it's just whole notes like you want,” Callum said, growing frustrated.

“Sure we can. I’ll compose a great piece, and it will be at least three times better than this,” Rayla promised. She knew her piece wouldn’t be “better” per se, but it would still be great. It had to be. Callum rolled his eyes.

“Fine then. My house tomorrow. We play both pieces for my step dad and my brother. They vote on whichever one is better, then we play the winner,” Callum said, though Rayla didn’t look pleased. “Deal?” 

“Whatever. Deal.” They shook hands, though Rayla made sure to look visibly annoyed.

At lunch, Rayla got right to work on her composition. She had this composition program on her computer, though no one really knew about it. It wasn’t like it was a secret or anything. Rayla went through a phase in middle school where she wanted to compose everything ever. That phase ended within about a week. But the program was still downloaded, and it was finally coming to use. 

She plugged in her headphones and chose her preferred time and key signatures. 4/4, D major. Easy. She worked on placing whole notes and half notes in both of the parts, making them clash and resolve. Composition was fun- Rayla wondered why she had ever dropped the hobby. She added fun notes about how to play- _With expression. Longingly._ Whatever cheesy footnotes she could add, she did. By the end of the school day, after having worked on the piece little by little all day, she could finally call it done. 

She listened to it back on the bus ride home. It wasn’t bad, not at all. It was actually pretty sad for a song in a major key. And the grace notes in front of some of the whole notes added a fun variety- not that her piece needed it. Her parents would be proud. 

A sad twang pulled at her heart. Her parents had been away on business for two years now. They never called or wrote. They never checked in on her. It made her angry, it made her sad. But Rayla was still happy. Her parents were behind her now, supposedly. Perhaps that’s where her piece came from- sad and longing for her parents, but still… happy. Rayla loved Runaan and Ethari more than words could say. She’d never want to leave them.

The piece finished and Rayla felt a sudden pull of panic. She’s have to share this with Callum and his family. She couldn’t keep it a secret, no matter how much she wanted to.

**Saturday; 13 Days Until the Deadline**

True to his word, Callum sent Rayla his address the next morning. Callum had stayed up into the late hours of the morning revising and editing until he was sure the piece was finished. Within a couple minutes, Rayla arrived with bags under her eyes, suggesting that she’d stayed up late, too. Maybe she did care about this project after all.

“Welcome to _mi casa,_ ” Callum said, opening the door and stepping aside to let the sleep-deprived girl inside. “That’s french for ‘front door’.”

Rayla scowled and stepped inside. “It's really… not.” Callum rolled his eyes and gestured for Rayla to follow him. He led her into the dining room, where his laptop was already set up on the table, and his viola was flat on a chair. _This kid…_ Rayla thought to herself with exasperation. _Always doing the absolute most._

“Harrow should be back from the store any second,” Callum started as Rayla put her laptop on the table and sat down. “In the meantime, want anything to drink? We’ve got like water, and milk, and-”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Rayla replied, curt.

“Dude, you didn’t even let me finish the list. Water, milk, orange juice-”

“I don’t want to do this project with you any more than you want to do it with me. Let’s settle on a piece, practice _by ourselves_ until we have to perform, and then be done.” Rayla opened her laptop, waiting for the home screen to load. 

“What is your problem with me!” Callum huffed, sitting across from her. Rayla glanced over at him and studied him for the first time. His hair was brown and shaggy and unkempt. His circular glasses framed his dumb green eyes nicely, and his stupid freckles dotted his honey-colored skin like notes on a page. Rayla tried not to grimace at how kind-of cute she found him.

“My problem?” Rayla rolled her eyes. “Who doesn’t have a problem with the first-chair.” She turned her attention back to her laptop, not noticing the hurt displayed on Callum’s face. People hated him because he was first-chair? He wasn’t trying to be bossy, he was just trying to help… 

He was going to clap back in retaliation, except he heard a car door slam outside.

“Harrow’s here,” he said, moving the cursor so the screen would light up. Rayla saw the mess of notes he’d written in the reflection of his glasses and decided he should share his piece first. Save the best for last.

Harrow walked into the dining room, and Rayla could immediately see the resemblance in his son, Ezran, who played cello in his middle school. Though, Ezran also put way too much effort into his craft, so Rayla often saw him playing with her class instead of the other young kids.

“Alright,” he said, taking a seat. “You’re Rayla, I presume?”

“Yeah.”

“Pleasure to meet you. How long have you been playing?”

“Since 4th grade.”

“Fun!” Harrow noted. “Just as long as Callum.”

“Okay, let’s listen to the pieces,” Callum interrupted, blushing slightly. He moved to press play when Rayla asked;

“You’ve only been playing for six years!?” Rayla exclaimed. “I just assumed you were a prodigy or something.”

“Let’s listen,” Callum said again, growing agitated. He hit play before anyone else could say anything and avoided everyone’s eyes as the sound of electronic instruments filled the room. He’d composed a waltz. A fast one, too. It was unbalanced and quick, not really what one would expect from a waltz. But when Callum closed his eyes, he could almost see it being played at a masquerade, dancers in renaissance dresses with puffed sleeves and purple fabric; a color representing royalty. He could almost see men in frilly collars twirling their partners and watching as their skirts fanned out into disks. He could hear the shoes tapping on the floor, keeping in step with the tempo. Chandeliers and stained glass windows, glasses of champagne being spilled in carelessness over the dance, curls and neatly kempt hair coming undone in the frantic steps and spins. Petticoats bounced with the beat. The key changed and the dancers cheered, the tempo picked up and with every accidental a new move was made. And when the piece finished, no one was with their original partner. 

Callum opened his eyes to see both Harrow and Rayla staring at him, slightly shocked. He glanced between the two of them and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“That was…” Rayla began, but trailed off.

“Wow,” Harrow breathed, schickling slightly. “That was really good. _Really_ good. Didn’t know you had that in you.”

Callum blushed. “Well, composition is something I’ve been considering…” Rayla noticed the usual confidence in his voice was gone. It was the first time of many she realized how much this project meant to him. She shook her head.

“My turn,” she said, pressing play before anyone could stop her. It was slow, for sure. It reminded her of moonlit nights where the sky was so dark but the stars were so bright. It reminded her of lakes as the sun was setting. Crickets chirping in the distance, a muted breeze daring to brush the grass, defying the silence and rippling the top of the water, ruining the reflection of peace across the surface. But most of all, it reminded her of those few weeks after her parents left. Those nights, staring at her ceiling, excited that she got to live with Runaan and Ethari, wondering if she’d ever see her parents again. It was the curiosity that sparked her piece. The glowing opportunity in the future, the wonder in leaving her parents. The notes in her piece clashed for a moment with uncertainty, as if the notes were wrong, wondering if they had made a mistake. But slowly, as Rayla had come to grow comfortable in her life, the dissonance resolved, ending in a perfect chord.

Callum had folded his arms and was staring at the edge of the table. Harrow was nodding slightly, obviously pleased. It was silent for a moment until Callum asked;

“What do you think? Which do we play?”

“For starters, I love them both,” Harrow said, looking between the two of them. “Callum, your piece shows real promise. I love the use of unusual rhythms and accidentals. It’s very… unique. Not in a bad way, not at all. It’s unique to you, and it’s wonderful”

“So you like mine best and that’s what we’re playing!” Callum shot Rayla a cocky grin. Harrow shook his head,

“I wasn’t done. Rayla, yours is really nice, too. You have a good ear.”

“Thanks, sir,” Rayla smiled, smug. Callum didn’t look at her.

“They're both really good, but they're both too individualistic.”

“What?” Callum groaned. “Individualistic! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Callum, your piece sounds like you. You wrote it with your goals in mind. You wrote it with your own history in mind. It’s good if this was a solo project. But it’s not.” He shifted his attention to Rayla. “That goes for you, too. Your piece is really well done, but it sounds too much like you and your past. This is a group effort. Mix the styles together, make the piece more versatile. Then we’ll see.” 

Rayla frowned.

“Wait, that wasn’t the deal,” Callum protested as Harrow stood to leave. “You were supposed to pick one!”

Rayla glanced at her music. “I think he’s right, though,” she said. “If we implement aspects of both, we’d get a totally different sound.”

“But-” Callum started to protest before he caught a glimpse of Rayla. Something had changed since the moment she walked in. Somewhere in the past few minutes, Rayla’s opinion on the project had totally flipped, nevertheless she was hiding it well. Ms. Opeli told Callum to _push her forward._ This was a step in the right direction.

“Okay,” he finally said. “We’ll write a new piece. Together.”And though he said the last word through gritted teeth, things were finally starting to look up.

**Monday; 11 Days Until the Deadline**

At school on Monday, Callum shared the document with Rayla so they could both work on it remotely. For almost two days, the entirety of their partnership consisted of Callum writing his part alone in a practice room and Rayla writing hers to match. Silently. They didn’t talk in class, nor did they ever meet out of school. They thought their process was working out well, but whenever one of them played their progress out loud, the piece clashed. Maybe not in sound, it sounded nothing more than mediocre. But neither of them could really shake the idea that something was missing. 

In fact, Callum never thought he would, but he was starting to hate the way the alto clef looked. Clefs were funny, in general. Why couldn’t everyone play in the same clef? If treble clefs were just higher, bass clefs lower, why should tenor and alto clef even exist? The big loopy 13s at the front of every line was really starting to put a damper on Callum’s mood. Nobody even _liked_ alto clef.

He sat on is bed dejectedly, crossing his arms and staring at the screen. It just… didn’t fit. When he played it, it sounded like they were both melodies, competing to be heard. Callum’s fast waltz versus Rayla’s slow dance, and no one was winning. He checked the time, letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw that it was nearing midnight. He and Rayla had a week and a half. A week and a half to pull something together- something playable. His eyes wandered over to his viola case, sitting on the ground next to his music stand. The case was wide open, and inside was a yellow sticky note that Callum had almost forgotten about.

His laptop chimed, sporting a new notification. On the screen, a popup read;

_Rayla Dove has started editing the document._

Callum kind-of froze, watching her cursor move across the screen. It stopped for a second, as if Rayla was thinking. But then, out of nowhere, it started deleting notes left and right. Not any notes, but _Callum’s._ Rayla was altering the part that Callum had written. He huffed and moved out of bed, grabbing that yellow sticky and his phone. He dialed Rayla’s number, and while he waited sat on the bed again.

“Who’s this?” Rayla’s voice rang through.

“Well hello to you too, sunshine. It’s Callum- what are you doing to my part?”

“Changing it, duh. Maybe you need better glasses.”

“Why are you changing it? It’s my part-”

“Because it sucks!” Rayla interjected, her cursor still moving across the screen. “I’ve listened to it, and so have you. You and I both know the parts don’t fit, and something needs to change.” She removed triplets and grace notes, leaving simplicity behind. Callum rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

“Well, we should have talked about it. This is a group project, after all.”

“Well, you’ve been avoiding me like crazy. I’ve been trying to sit up in the first row with you, but you’ve been locking yourself away in a practice room.”

“You could have knocked-”

“Headphones in, Callum. You wouldn’t have heard. I’ve been trying, in case you haven't noticed.”

“Really?” Callum almost laughed at the prospect of Rayla _trying._ “If you were trying, you wouldn’t be bent out of shape at the idea of something slightly challenging.”

“I’m at the point where the difficulty doesn’t matter. I can’t compose anything new because you're always measures ahead, and I’m left to play catch-up.” The line was silent for a moment and Callum watched as Rayla changed his part until it looked entirely different. “I’ve been trying with what I was given,” Rayla continued. “It seems like it’s you who's stuck in their ways.”

No one said anything. Callum realized she was right. He had been avoiding her, hiding under the guise of togetherness with this dumb shared document, when in reality he was stuck. He thought he was pushing her along, like Ms. Opeli said, yet perhaps there was a chance that he was holding her back.

“Now listen to it,” Rayla said. Callum muted the phone and hit play on the new composition. It was still pretty quick, but something had changed. Callum’s part still moved, Rayla’s part was relatively tame, but they didn’t just sit next to each other. The notes danced around one another, creating a complex melody that switched between both parts. It sounded like… It reminded Callum of ribbons. Ribbons, flitting in circles but gliding with grace through the air, intertwining but never tangling. It reminded him of spirals, forever infinite and just outside the realm of comprehension. It was mystical and new, it was familiar and yet so foreign. Harrow wasn’t kidding when he said Rayla had a good ear. She’d singlehandedly fixed everything.

“How did you do that?” Callum croaked, unmuting the phone.

“Changed whatever you did do accomodate the part under it,” Rayla answered simply. “Do you like it?”

“I-yeah, I do.”

“Cool. So… composition’s done, then.”

“Yeah, I-I guess so.”

“Practice tomorrow?”

“Mhm!”

_Rayla Dove has left the document._

**Tuesday; 10 Days Until the Deadline**

At school the next morning, Callum and Rayla greeted each other with somewhat cheerful “hellos,” which was a nice surprise for both of them. Callum had printed two copies of the new score and handed one to Rayla as she brought her viola out of its case. She took it with a smile while Callum unlocked a practice room. Neither of the two noticed, but when Rayla followed him inside with a smile, whispers went around. Everyone saw them arguing not but a few days ago, but now they were all buddy-buddy? The revision in demeanor was enough to make the student body wonder if they would still be just project-partners by next Friday.

“So, I guess we should take it from the top?” Callum asked, placing the sheets on a stand as Rayla closed the door.

“Yeah,” Rayla replied, suddenly nervous. She never played solo in front of anyone. She hardly even practiced loud enough for anyone else to hear, and that’s _if_ she was practicing outside of class at all. She watched as Callum raised his viola in between his chin and shoulder, silently tapping his way through the part. Abruptly, Rayla found herself plagued with jealousy. Music was so easy for him- even if he was somewhat stubborn. She knew he wanted to make it part of his career one day, which made Rayla want to resent him even more. He seemed to have everything figured out, but even so, she had no clue what to do when she graduated. She tried not to think about it- that was still so far away.

Callum noticed Rayla staring and blushed. “Should I count us off, then?”

“Yeah! Yes, yeah, let’s start,” she said, breathing out and lifting her viola. Callum started counting in rhythm-

“One, two, three, one, rea-dy, go.” 

He struck the first chord with confidence, leaving Rayla’s part sounding measly and weak. Perhaps that was the feel, though. Her part, after all, was marked _pianissimo,_ while Callum’s was more _mezzo-forte_. She tried to keep up, too. But halfway through, she found herself just… staring. Again. His hands moved with grace, his fingers dancing on the strings as if he’d know the piece forever. Rayla of course knew there was a reason he was first chair, but she’d never really heard it until then.

But just when it seemed the magic in the music would engulf Rayla whole, Callum slipped. Well, Rayla didn’t hear anything wrong. But Callum grimaced and stopped.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, squinting at the page. “Maybe I do need new glasses…”

“Why’d you stop? I didn’t hear anything wrong-”

“You edited out the accidental last night, remember?” Callum glanced up before taking a pencil and circling something on his paper. Rayla didn’t hear the slight resentment.

“Right, right,” she breathed. Funny… she’d forgotten.

“And I know you’re marked _pianissimo_ , but it would be great if I could hear your part too, so would you mind playing out just a bit?”

“Uh, sure.”

“One more time, from the top.”

Rayla found her confidence growing while she was practicing with Callum. She always found him pretentious, like he thought he was better than everyone. But he didn’t call her out when she was wrong, he didn’t try to fix her bow hold or her intonation or anything. In fact, _he_ apologized to _her_ as if it was his fault the altogether sound wasn’t up to par. So she started trying. Like, actually trying. Last Saturday, she’d decided to humor him. But when she played with someone who wasn’t afraid to grow, who wasn’t afraid to learn, it made her want to learn, too. 

The bell rang to their surprise; both had been so caught up in the music, neither had realized the time passing. Callum eyed Rayla as he packed up his music, watching as she did the same. At some point in the lesson she’d put her hair in a pony-tail, but little hairs fell out, framing her face quite nicely. With her almost-white blonde hair, her slim face and lavender eyes, she looked like she should have been a fairy in a garden. Until she caught him staring.

“What are you looking at, Glasses?”

“What? Uh, nothing!” Callum tried, smiling sheepishly and scratching the back of his head. “Nothing at all.” While Callum spoke, Rayla wondered if Callum just didn’t know how to tell her how she really sounded.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” she half-joked.

“Huh? No! Of course not, where would you even get that?”

Rayla shrugged, suddenly defensive. “Sometimes people just don’t say what they mean.” She slowly turned and left the practice room, leaving Callum to watch her walk away. It hadn’t occurred to Rayla until then that Callum was just too unproblematic to say anything rude. She was abruptly aware of the possibility that secretly, he thought she really did stink. As she packed her viola, she blushed and wondered how she could let that option fly over her head. People never really said what they meant, anyways. They lied to preserve another’s feelings. They fibbed to protect the air of common courtesy. Rayla wouldn’t fall into that trap, not again.

Callum watched as Rayla huffed and tucked away her viola. What changed? At the end, there. While they played, it was like part of that wall had started to come down. But as soon as the bell rang, Callum could see that defensive layer shooting right back up. Maybe she thought he was creepy. Some rando orchestra kid who had nothing better to do than practice and stare at pretty girls.

Pretty girls? Pretty girls! No, no, no, no! Callum tried to unthink that. Sure, Rayla was pretty, but not, like, in _that_ way. She was just a girl who happened to be kind-of pretty, who happened to be paired with him for the project, who happened to have lavender eyes, which really for an eye color is quite astounding. It’s not his fault he’d never really noticed how she looked before. All she did was sit in the back and hardly work, and now he was seeing her for the first time and- okay, things were getting way way way too muddled up in Callum Land. Simply put, Rayla was someone Callum had never really had the opportunity to see, and, well, when he did, she surprised him. That’s all. That’s all, Callum tried to tell himself. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when the warning bell rang. Thoughts of Rayla weren’t going to make him late for class.

At home, Rayla shut herself in her room right away. She glanced at the clock- 2:56. Ethari would be home in an hour, Runaan in two. She glanced down at the viola case in her hand before exhaling and setting it on her bed. She opened the case, pulling out the sheet music and trying to prop it up on a folder on her desk. Then, she took out her viola and the bow and turned to the music. Okay. She was trying. Even if that strange sense of security she had with Callum was false, she was determined to do something right.

After a few minutes of playing through, Rayla finally had the part under her fingers. But it sounded bland by itself. She tried again, trying to add grace notes in some places to mirror the other part, but it just didn’t sound right. Perhaps it was just the absence of a partner, or maybe it was her overall skill that needed revamping. She needed something to take her sound to the next level, something she hadn’t learned yet. 

She glanced at her phone, lying face down on the bed. Something in her urged her to call Callum for help. But she had every reason not to, right? They hadn’t even been on good terms for a day. Even so, Rayla’s self doubt kept creeping into her mind. What if Callum secretly thought she was an absolute trainwreck? What if he was pretending to be able to stand her to make the project more enjoyable; like a fake it ‘til you make it situation. There were so many what-ifs running through her head that they eventually chased the idea of calling Callum away. With a sigh, Rayla lifted her viola to run the piece again, trying to close the rather depressing thoughts out of mind.

Callum was practicing from the moment he got home until Harrow called for supper. In that time, he’d finally gotten to focus on some of the problem areas. When he practiced with Rayla, he’d made sure to dodge the parts that Rayla had changed drastically. There weren’t many, but there were a few measures towards the end where she’d added high notes that Callum was having trouble reading. There were so many notes, so high above the staff, and Callum was sure to have to shift to reach them. He wasn’t a stranger to obscure positioning when playing viola, but it was always a challenge. Now that he was alone, he could practice them without being judged.

Over and over he played through, doing his best to reach high on the fingerboard, but he always missed the top few notes. It shouldn’t be _that_ hard, it was just a scale, a simple scale in a higher register. Nothing more than shifting his ring, middle, and index finger forward a few extra inches. But whenever he did, he kept missing the note by quite a margin. He’d stop, replay it slower and hit the notes just fine, but as soon as he brought the piece up to tempo, it was like his hand decided to become clay and just didn’t listen. He kept missing. Over and over, his fingers slid and no matter how hard he tried, Callum couldn’t hit the notes. He placed his fingers down, trying so, so, so hard, but no matter what, the run ended in a less than pleasant _squeak!_ His hand started to feel like a rock, but he wouldn’t quit, not until he got it right, not until-

“Callum! Time for dinner!” Came a yell from behind the hall. 

“On my way,” he replied, setting his viola down on his bed. He glanced at his head, noticing with a start that his fingertips were stained gray from the paint of the fingerboards. He massaged his wrist, realizing it was sore, too. _Maybe I could use a break,_ he thought as he stepped out to join Ezran and Harrow for dinner.

“So,” Harrow began as Callum sat down. “Rayla seems nice.”

Callum tried (and failed) not to blush. “I guess so.” He stuffed a forkful of mac’n’cheese in his mouth, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

“Who’s Rayla?” Ezran asked. 

“One of the violists who plays in my class. You’d probably recognize her,” Callum replied, still not looking at anyone. Ezran probably would recognize her, too. Like Callum, Ezran had pretty much a photographic memory, part of the reason he was a prodigy cello player. He was so good, in fact, that Callum’s school often had him play with the high school orchestra instead of just the middle schoolers. He already had scholarships lined up, but as far as Callum was concerned, Ezran didn’t have any big plans to become a musician. He wanted to be a veterinarian one day, though Callum secretly hoped that his little brother would still pursue music on the side.

“How is that project going? I heard you practicing,” Harrow asked after an uncomfortable silence. Callum took another bite.

“It’s going… fine, I guess,” he replied through a mouthful. “Just fine. Rayla’s having trouble playing out a bit, but otherwise she sounds pretty good.” It was true. Callum wasn’t sure how to tell her before, but Callum was impressed with her intonation, even if her tone was a little bland overall. She had a great ear and almost never missed a note, and with a little vibrato, she’d be golden.

“Just fine?”

“Yeah. I mean, we still have things to work on and only a week and a half to do so, but we’re getting some progress and that’s what matters, I guess.”

“Is Rayla any good?”

“She’s last chair, d- Harrow, she’s not exactly a prodigy,” Callum muttered, stuffing more mac’n’cheese into his face. He tried not to think about how he’d almost called Harrow his “dad” and hoped that Harrow hadn’t heard.

“You heard her composition, though,” he replied, seemingly unfazed. “You have to admit she's got promise.”

“Yeah, sure,” Callum said, finishing the last of his food before bringing his plate to the sink. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, retreating back into his room, eager to practice more. That conversation had exhausted him, for no real reason. All that talk about Rayla was really messing with his head. It shouldn’t have been, though. They were just partners. He had to remind himself that he didn’t even _like_ her to begin with. Her apathetic nature was just tiring, and she didn’t seem to try at anything. _Except the composition,_ said a voice. _You heard it- she actually tried. And in rehearsal today. She’s actually working, you know._

Callum shook the thoughts of appraisal from his head as he picked up his viola again. He winced, wrist still sore and aching. He’d been practicing for hours- maybe he needed a longer break. Perhaps if he slept on it a bit, he’d wake up refreshed with the energy to try again.

**Saturday; 6 Days Until the Deadline**

Saturday, Callum woke up feeling better than ever. Until he checked his phone, saw that it was close to 10 a.m, and realized Rayla would be over any minute. He launched out of bed and pulled on a shirt, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. He glanced nervously around his room and frantically began shoving piles of dirty clothes under his bed and into his closet. From a junk drawer in his dresser, he pulled out a cheap folding stand and sat it next to his regular music stand, one for him and one for Rayla. He unpacked his viola and practically flung it onto his bed while he set up the sheets of music on his stand, butterflies rising higher when he heard the doorbell ringing.

“Callum!” Harrow yelled from down the hall.

“One second!’ Callum shoved his closet door closed with difficulty, looking around once more to make sure everything was clean enough to welcome a guest. He rushed out of his room just when he heard the door swing open. From down the hall, Callum heard the voices of Rayla and Harrow making their way closer. He emerged in the foyer to see Rayla standing in the light from the window on the door. His breath hitched for a second and his heart rate seemed to quicken.

“Hey,” she said with a smile.

“I’ve got cookies in the oven,” Harrow said from the side. “I’ll let you two know when they’re done, sound good?”

“Yep!” Callum squeaked, trying not to look to closely at how beautiful Rayla was in the Saturday morning sun. “Sounds good da- uh, Harrow, see you soon. Shall we?” He gestured for Rayla to follow him down the hall and led her into his room. “You can leave your case on the bed if you want,” he said, while Rayla looked around. 

“Your room looks a lot like you,” she said, putting her case on the bed beside her. Callum paused, confused.

“It what now?”

“I don’t know, it looks like you.” Rayla shrugged, unlatching the tabs on her case and pulling the top back. “It’s painted such a light blue, and the window is wide open, white ceiling, looks like the open sky, feels wide open and freeing. Cluttered shelves,” she nodded towards a bookshelf collecting dust. “You’ve more important things to worry about. And of course, a music stand. You practice here, don’t you?”

“Well, where else would I?” Callum said, lifting his own viola to his chin. “It’s not like this house is big, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Rayla shrugged again. “I don’t know, I can just see a lot of your personality in the room, is all.”

“Into psychology, much?” Callum chucked and Rayla looked over at him, making his heart skip a beat.

“Not really. I guess I can just read people well.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, it seems.”

“But I don’t love any of them,” Rayla muttered, twisting the tuning pegs on her viola. Callum caught himself staring again, how her eyes narrowed as she tuned the instrument. She was interesting, to say the least. 

Thoughts from somewhere deep started to distract him; how he wanted to perhaps be more than partners. Images of casual kisses filled his head, holding hands and staying over at each other’s houses in a snow storm. But he couldn’t let those thoughts get the better of him at all, not when Rayla was destined to drop the class by the end of the year and never talk to him again. He couldn’t get too attached.

“What?” Rayla said, snapping Callum from his thoughts.

“What?”

“You were staring at me.”

“Oh. Sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important. Shall we?”

Rayla sighed and put her music on her stand. “From the top?”

Callum counted off and together they played. Rayla was confident in her side of the piece, finally, though even when played together it still felt like something was missing. Callum, in likeness, was growing quite frustrated. That stiffness in his hand was back, making it hard for him to hit some of the notes, and when he played some harmonics, shooting pains in the side of his pinky made him grimace. They played together, and it sounded just fine. But when they finished playing through, it was obvious neither of them were satisfied. Callum frowned and massaged his wrist, tucking his viola under his arm.

“Alright. Any notes?” he asked, focused with a furrowed brow on his music. Rayla bit the inside of her lip, thinking.

“I don’t know, I feel like I’m missing something,” she finally said. “All the notes are there, but it still sounds… bland.”

“Are you sure?” Callum asked. “You sounded great, to me.”

“Well, I’m not 100% about it, so… help?” Rayla asked. “Please?”

Callum moved over to Rayla’s stand, studying her sheet of music. Suddenly, she was hyper-aware of the close proximity. How if she were to move ever so slightly, her shoulder would touch his. She hoped he wouldn't notice the quickening of her pulse the closer he was, and that she was practically staring at his face the whole time they were standing together. Suddenly, Callum grabbed for a pencil off his stand, knocking over Rayla’s in the process. In an attempt to catch the falling stand, Rayla made a step and a grab- but missed entirely, and started to feel herself careening towards the ground.

“Watch out!” She heard Callum yell, though it was all a blur. Next thing she knew was Callum holding her arm, pulling her up so quickly that their chests were almost touching, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her nose. Her breath caught- they were _so close_ to one another, she could trace his freckles into patterns if she wanted to. Hell, she could count them if he let her.

“Sorry about that,” Rayla whispered, stepping back ever so slightly. Callum blinked and smiled.

“No worries,” he breathed, letting go of her arm and reaching over to pick up the fallen stand. Rayla picked up the fallen pieces of sheet music and placed them on top, blushing profusely. “I’ve got and idea, though.” With a pencil, Callum marked in dynamics left and right. A < signaling a crescendo into _f_ for _forte_ , a _pp_ for _pianissimo,_ as soft as possible, another crescendo, _ff_ for _fortissimo_ , as loud as possible, and a > into _mf,_ somewhere in the middle. One last > for a decrescendo, dissolving into _pp_ for a quiet phrase, then growing into a crescendo until she was playing at _fortissimo_ for the rest of the piece.

“Dynamics,” he finished, laying the pencil on her stand. “A good way to phrase the music. I have a bunch of dynamics written in mine, but maybe this will help?” Callum tried for a smile, though his cheeks were also stained pink with embarrassment from the moments before.

When they ran the piece again, there was significant improvement. Though Rayla couldn’t help but notice Callum wince whenever he shifted his hand, stretched his fingers. 

“You okay?” she asked as she was packing up to leave.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your just looked like you were in pain when you played.”

“Did I?” Callum squeaked, scratching the back of his head. “Guess I have to work on my game-face, right?” he laughed, though Rayla didn’t buy it.

“You’re hiding something.”

“And you need to play out. I can barely hear you!” Callum diverted with an air of playful banter. Rayla shot him a look.

“Why didn’t you say so when we were practicing?”

“What? No, that’s not-” Callum started, noticing the hurt in her face. “I didn’t mean it like that. You sound great. I just want to hear it.”

Rayla scoffed with a smile. “What if I mess up?”

“Mess up with confidence!”

“Sounds like a cheesy quote my mom would find on Pinterest.”

“Doesn't make it any less true! You’re good, you almost never miss a note. Play loud enough for the whole class to hear next week. That’s all.” Callum stepped closer, his eyes dancing between hers. Lavender really was a fascinating color. 

“That's... sweet,” Rayla said, averting her gaze and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I don’t think I’m that great. And I’m sure you don’t either-”

“Hey, woah, woah! That’s not true at all,” Callum stopped her in her tracks. He bit his lip, wondering if he should say what he was about to say next. “You know,” he began, “On our first day, when we were assigned to work together, I asked Ms. Opeli to switch partners. She said she thought I was afraid you’d hold me back, and she encouraged me to push you along instead, but I’m realizing…” He dropped his eyes and shrugged. “That was really prideful thinking. You didn’t need anyone to push you along. You did that by yourself.”

“Callum,” Rayla said, hushed.

“You rose to the challenge, even though I didn’t think you would. And you’ve got skill in music. I just want people to be able to see you.”

Now, Rayla was conflicted. At first, that little voice in her head told her that Callum was lying, that he didn’t think she had anything to offer, that he was just being nice. But the sincerity in his voice made her question everything she believed false. 

“You’re very kind, Glasses, but I guess we’ll have to see if you can push me there,” she said with slight uncertainty, not sure how to respond. Then… she had a thought. “Do you still sometimes wish you’d switched partners?”

Callum shook his head. “Not once since then.”

**Monday; 4 Days Until the Deadline**

Rayla found herself hiding in a practice room at lunch on Monday. She almost never spent her lunch time doing anything productive, but she and Callum only had five days until the project was due, and Rayla’s part still fell flat in terms of style. She and Callum agreed to get together tomorrow to practice some more, which Rayla found herself looking forward to. She contemplated asking if there was anything she could do to make her part better, but she ultimately decided it might be a weird question. She didn’t want to make Callum uncomfortable. He already helped her with the dynamics, and she didn’t want to push it. What if he thought she was annoying because she was asking too many questions? What if he thought she was dumb?

She ran the piece, again and again, drowning out the background noise from the orchestra room just outside. She finished, still feeling like it was lacking. She tried again, ignoring the distant piano from the other side of the door. Eventually she just got _bored._ Rayla tried to think of ways to make her part better, but it just didn’t sound complete. Maybe- _plink, plink, plink!_ The piano outside resounded. Rayla rubbed her temples, trying to focus over the sound of the cheap-ass school piano. _Plink, plink, plunk!_ It has somehow gotten _louder_ , and Rayla simply did not vibe. She tried to tune it out, but the complexity of it started to overtake her. With a scowl, Rayla stood and opened the practice room door to give the pianist a piece of her mind. But when she stepped out, and once she saw who was sitting at the piano, she froze.

Callum was the one playing piano. He was sitting with his back to her, sitting up straight, squinting at his phone that had chords and lyrics on display. He was humming softly, his hands moving with grace across the keys, though his left hand sometimes stiffened and fumbled, playing a note wrong. He’d curse and start again with grace, then crumble with severity.

“Shit,” he cursed, squinting at the screen again. “E-flat minor, can’t mess it up again…” He started humming once more and Rayla couldn’t help but stare. He wasn’t a viola prodigy- he was a music prodigy. His hands moved delicately, crescendoing when need be, hiding his voice but letting it seep through from time to time. The sound was incomplete without the vocals, but when Callum played-

“Not again,” he said, interrupting Rayla’s thoughts. He had stopped and was rubbing his wrist, as if it was hurt somehow.

“Guess you’re not indestructible,” Rayla said, stepping up towards the piano.

“Gah!” Callum jumped, almost falling off the piano bench. “How long have you been standing there!” He pushed his glasses back up his nose, but they didn’t hide the shock and embarrassment on his face.

“Only a bit. What are you so embarrassed about?” Rayla asked, stepping closer with a slight chuckle. She tried to ignore the blush rising to his cheeks, or the one stray eyelash just under his eye, or how the green in his eyes reminded her of meadows in summer, or how his eyes were swollen like he’d been crying. She also tried to ignore how much she loved his eyes in general.

“Nothing, I’m just- surprised, is all.” His suave nature had disappeared, hiding behind something false.

“Is… everything okay?” Rayla sat on the bench next to him. Callum flinched where their arms brushed up against each other. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine. Just fine.”

“Just fine?” Rayla asked. Callum nodded, but didn’t look up at her. “You don’t seem… fine. Is everything really okay?”

“Mhm,” Callum nodded, finally looking up at her, though Rayla could see his eyes welling up. She tried to smile encouragingly, but was sure it came off more worried than intended.

“Well… you know you can talk to me, if you wanted.”

“Thanks.” The two were silent for a moment. Callum felt slightly uncomfortable with Rayla so close, but he had to admit, her company was… nice, to say the least. It had been a while since he had company that spoke in words and not music.

“So… what were you playing?” Rayla finally asked, glancing up at the screen.

“ _Oblivion,_ by Bastille,” he said, readying his hands on the keys again. He played the intro, and Rayla immediately recognized the song. She remembered it as a somber tune, full of questions, uncertainties. It sounded like a goodbye. Callum started humming the melody, and as soon as he did, the words came back to Rayla’s memory.

“ _When you fall asleep with your head on my shoulder,”_ Rayla began, surprising even herself. Callum started to smile softly, and Rayla’s heart melted. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. “ _When you’re in my arms, but you’ve gone somewhere deeper._ ” She didn’t want to pry, but Callum’s eyes started welling up again, and she could tell something was terribly wrong. “ _Are you going to age with grace? Are you going to age without mistake?_ ” Callum focused on the keys in front of him, determined not to mess up again. Not in front of Rayla, no, he was _determined._ “ _Are you going to age with grace? Or only to wake and hide your face?_ ” Despite the stiffness and shooting pains returning to his hands, Callum played on. Rayla’s voice was… ethereal. It was soft and melodious and made Callum think of silk. “ _When oh-oh-oh-oblivion is calling out your name._ ” The melody in and of itself was enough to make Rayla tear up, but watching Callum’s hands shake with brief hesitance as he played only made it worse. “ _You always take it further than I ever can._ ”

Callum’s left hand started shaking violently before plunking down and hitting a wrong note. He clenched his eyes shut and held his breath, not moving.

“Callum?” Rayla breathed. “Is everything okay?”

“If I pretend it’s not there, it’ll go away,” he muttered through gritted teeth. His hands still shook and a single tear fell.

“Hey, hey,” Rayla whispered, moving his hands from the keys, letting her skin where they’d touched grow warm. “What will go away?”

Callum sniffed and quietly wiped a tear from his face, trying desperately to keep cool. “I’ve been practicing a lot,” he started, voice quaking. “And my hand has started to get stiffened up sometimes, but-” he sniffed again, starting to break. “But I tried to keep going, because I thought it was fine, but it hurts a lot and-and I keep telling myself that if I pretend it’s fine, it will go away, because I want to be fine, because if it’s not then I can’t play and-”

“Hey,” Rayla tried again. “Slow down.” She took his left hand in hers. “This one?” He nodded, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Rayla hated seeing him like this.

“I’m sorry, I know we don’t know each other that well-”

“Stop, don’t worry about me. Worry about you, for once.”

“What?”

“Take a break. Take a much needed break, Callum.” She squeezed his hand lightly and Callum winced. “Give yourself some time, you need it, okay?”

“No, no, no, I need to practice, for our project, for my lessons-” He sniffed again, more tears falling, but he tried to hide it. “It’s all I’m good at, you know? I can’t just stop.”

Rayla bit her lip, wondering what to say next. “Look at me,” she said. Reluctant, Callum turned to face her. Rayla wiped away falling tears with her thumb, staring worriedly into Callum’s eyes, holding her palm to his cheek for just a moment longer. “I’ll figure out this project on my own. I’ll explain to Ms. Opeli if you want me to. Your body is telling you to take a break, don’t ignore it.”

“But-”

“No.”

“I can’t just-”

“It will be okay. Let your hand heal, alright?” Rayla watched as Callum dropped his head, finally pulling his hand from her grasp. Rayla dropped her hand from his face, and Callum held his own arms, shoulders beginning to shake.

“I’m sorry again, I don’t know-” he started, but Rayla didn’t want to hear it. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tight. He froze for a moment before completing the embrace. Rayla’s sides grew warmer where Callum’s arms were, her stomach did backflips and her head grew fuzzy. So she squeezed tighter. Callum buried his head in her shoulder, breathing deeply. His pulse, once rapid, was finally slowing down.

Callum sat back, pulling away from Rayla, but staying close. Their heads were nearly touching, but Callum couldn’t bring himself to look up.

“I’m sorry about that,” he chuckled, nervous. He glanced up at her, but whenever he saw her eyes, he felt butterflies blooming inside. 

“Don’t be,” Rayla whispered as the bell rang to end lunch. Rayla glanced up at Callum, noticing their closeness. In a split moment decision, she pressed her lips to his cheek before pulling away altogether. “Don’t be late for class, okay?” She said. Callum stared up at her in wonder, hand rising to where she’d kissed him. Rayla could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’ve gotta pack my viola.” She stood, and Callum watched as she went back into the practice room. She had kissed him. The notion was almost too much to believe.

When Rayla came back to put her viola case away, Callum was gone.

He ducked into a bathroom and thanked the stars that no one was there. With a swift motion he locked himself in the stall and sank to the ground with his back against the wall. His hand was still sore, and his cheek was still tingling where Rayla had kissed him, which the idea of still seemed pretty remarkable. Callum’s fingers traced that spot as he thought back to the events of the past few minutes. That was… pretty embarrassing. He’d just broken down over something so miniscule, and his hand didn’t even hurt that bad, so maybe he was just overreacting. And Rayla had seen him cry- now _that_ was a low. Callum hated crying, especially in front of people. He didn’t like looking… weak. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and he certainly didn’t like the notion of people judging him for whatever he was crying about. Even just then, he was sure Rayla thought he was crazy, crying over a stupid wrist injury that probably wasn’t even all that bad. He felt awful about it, about making her uncomfortable like that. But he did like the feeling of her arms around his shoulders. And he did like holding her hand. Hell, even remembering how close together they had been made him feel nervous for some reason. Callum shook his head- any thoughts of maybe, _maybe,_ maybe liking Rayla were certainly off limits, now. Especially after that episode.

...Liking Rayla? Was that how it was? Did he officially… _like_ her? 

Callum scoffed out loud. Even if he did, he couldn’t imagine her wanting to be with him. She was, well, she was _Rayla_ . She was smart, and talented, and quick on her feet. Callum was just... _Callum_. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to hold hands in the hallway in between classes, or getting coffee together after school, or kissing goodbye before they separated into different busses, or meeting at one of their lockers before classes started. Callum clenched his eyes shut- his head was moving way too fast, and this was extremely wishful thinking. Not to mention that he probably only felt this way because of that stupid composition project. After friday next week, he’d be back to never talking to her, she’d be back in the last chair of the section, they’d be done having to deal with one another and things would be back to normal. No more weird feelings, no more breaking down. Things would be back to normal.

Things would be back to the way they were supposed to be. 

So why wasn’t Callum looking forward to it?

The rest of the school day was a blur for Rayla. She moved about without purpose, deep in thought. She and Callum were supposed to get together the next day to practice, and Rayla wasn’t sure if she wanted Callum to cancel it or not. On one hand, Rayla felt like she needed to hear her part with his again. The dynamics Callum had given her helped a lot, definitely, but it was still lacking. She wanted to practice for selfish reasons, so _she_ could get better. On the other hand, Callum desperately needed a break. She thought back to how he acted in the orchestra room at lunch, how he cursed at himself for messing up and forced himself to try again even though it clearly hurt. She’d seen him look tired in classes, but never really realized it was because he was pushing himself too hard.

Then again, did Callum even want her around? At his house, after the… incident… he started assuring her that she was great, that she had talent and skill, but a voice kept saying it was all a lie. If Rayla was as “skillful” as Callum said, why was she in the back of the orchestra? And if she was as “talented” as he believed, why didn’t she feel it too? And who's to say he wasn’t just being nice? Who's to say Rayla wasn’t catching feelings over one big lie? It had happened before, too. Her parents told her she was a great dancer, that she was going to win, that she was the best in the competition. If that was true, then why didn’t she win? If she was as great as everyone told her, why didn’t the scores reflect that? When Rayla got older, she realized it was nothing but falsities hiding behind the guise of assurance. She realized that they were building her confidence, so she wouldn’t be scared, only for her to make a fool of herself when she messed up.

On the bus ride home, Rayla pulled out her laptop and listened to their composition again, thoughts growing darker. Callum was lying to her. He was just saying the right things, he knew how to get past her walls and she didn’t like it. She wouldn’t be fooled again. 

But the sincerity in his voice was so convincing. Why would he lie? Why would he tell her she was great if he had nothing to gain from it? He sounded heartfelt, and Rayla wanted to believe he was genuine. She wanted to believe it so bad because he was smart and good and really, really talented, and if anyone was “great” between the two of them, it was Callum. He had an air of kindness that Rayla hadn’t noticed until this project. She wanted to believe that Callum actually thought those things of her, because she thought those things of him. 

She wanted to believe Callum actually liked her, because Rayla actually liked him.

**Tuesday; 3 Days Until the Deadline**

9:44 a.m.

_Callum: We still on for this afternoon?_

**_Rayla: Only if you want to. I think it would be best if you took a break for health’s sake, but if you really think it’s necessary…_ **

_Callum: I think our piece has a long way to go. Plus- how could I pass up the opportunity to spend an afternoon with you?_

**_Rayla: Oh, hush, Glasses. You and I both know there’s other things we could be doing._ **

_Callum: So it’s a “no” for this afternoon?_

**_Rayla: Only if you want. You’re the music genius here, you decide._ **

_Callum: I’ll see you later, then!_

**_Rayla: Whatever you say, Glasses._ **

_Callum: Looking forward to hanging out with you too, Lavender_

**_Rayla: Lavender? Where tf does that come from?_ **

_Callum: You call me Glasses, which go over my eyes, right? It seems only fitting that I call you something similar. Your eyes are lavender, so I’m calling you Lavender._

**_Rayla: They’re not lavender._ **

_Callum: Oh, really? Then what are they?_

**_Rayla: They’re periwinkle, you dumbass._ **

_Callum: They look pretty lavender to me. Besides, I think it suits you._

**_Rayla: Whatever, Glasses. It’s not like you would know my eyes better than I do._ **

_Calum: Well who’s to say I haven't been studying your eyes since the day we became friends?_

**_Rayla: Oh, so we’re friends now? Do all friends flirt with each other over text?_ **

_Callum: What! What!_

_Callum: I wasn’t flirting!_

_Callum: I was just making a comment about your eyes!_

_Callum: Which are very pretty, by the way._

**_Rayla: I can hear your voice squeaking when I read these._ **

_Callum: Why is my voice in your head “squeaking?”_

**_Rayla: Your voice always squeaks when you’re nervous._ **

_Callum: ..._

**_Rayla: …_ **

**_Rayla: So I’ll see you this afternoon?_ **

_Callum: Looking forward to it._

2:03 p.m.

_Callum: If you don't like the name Lavender I can come up with something different._

**_Rayla: It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t think it suits me._ **

_Callum: So what does suit you?_

**_Rayla: Periwinkle._ **

_Callum: Well aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine._

2:34 p.m.

**_Rayla: Our bus is running late, I’ll be there as soon as possible._ **

_Callum: Please hurry! Harrow made cookies again and if you don’t come over he’s going to make Ezran and I eat them all!_

_Callum: They’re so goooood but I’ve eaten too many!_

**_Rayla: You’re such a dork._ **

_Callum: You say that like it’s a bad thing!_

**_Rayla: Never said it was. I think it’s cute._ **

Callum stopped everything he was doing and just stared at the screen. Rayla thought he was cute. More or less. She said he was a dork. Which she found… cute. Butterflies. Lots and lots of butterflies.

He’d cleaned his room for real since Rayla last came over. He even dusted that bookshelf she said was cluttered, but Callum didn’t see anything wrong with it, otherwise. Sure, he hadn’t read those books in years, and those practice books for viola were well under his skill level. Perhaps Rayla could find some use for them?

Callum shook his head. That might be insulting- she wasn’t a beginner, that’s for sure. Besides, she was in the orchestra class for the credit, she had no real intention of continuing. Even thinking back to the fact that Rayla was there for the credit seemed foreign. Over the past few days, Callum had watched her grow like crazy. She was more confident in her playing, her bow hold had improved, she was getting better and it made him so happy to see her learn, even if it was only temporary. 

Temporary. This whole thing would be over after they presented their project. In three days. This whole thing would be over in three days.

_Callum: So I’ve grown on you after all?_

**_Rayla: The bus just pulled up to my neighborhood. I’ll be over in 20._ **

_Callum: Dodging the question, huh?_

**_Rayla: See you soon._ **

  
  


Rayla cleared her throat and tucked her phone in her pocket as she walked up the driveway. She called Callum… cute. To his face. Well, not really. But it was a step. In what direction, she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t decide whether or not she _actually_ thought of him that way or if it was the lies he was telling her that was messing with her thoughts. 

At Callum’s house, in his room, they practiced and practiced and practiced, over and over again. Rayla still felt like her part was bland. But she wasn’t sure how to fix it. Callum, on the other hand, kept missing shifts that should have been completely easy for him. Rayla frowned whenever he did, thinking back to their conversation the day before. Callum didn’t want to take a break, viola was his life. And even if he branched out to other instruments, which ones could he play? Each one required one’s hands to be healthy.

There was one particular run through where everything was particularly off. Callum seemed to be falling apart. He missed one accidental, then with his hand shaking couldn’t even play half the notes right, and before long, it was nothing more than frustrated bow on out of tune strings.

“Sorry,” he muttered after a pretty bad run. “Just need more practice-”

“Oh come off it, you know that’s not true. You need to see a doctor or something.”

“I’ll be fine, It'll go away-”

“And then it will come back! Take a break.”

“Our project-”

“You can’t keep playing like this, Callum! We talked about this,” Rayla said, exasperated. Callum stared at his shoes. “You need to go to a doctor. At the very least get a cheap brace or something from CVS.”

“I just don’t know what else to do, you know? If I quit now, I’d be letting you down, It wouldn’t be fair-”

“I’m not worried about that. So I’ll lose ten points and my grade drops another letter. Big deal. But if you don’t take a break, or at least go to the doctor,” Rayla sat next to Callum, shoulders pressed firmly together. “Then you might not be able to play ever again. Ever think of that?”

“I…” Callum looked over at Rayla with adoration in his eyes. “You’re too good. You know that?”

Rayla blushed. “What on earth makes you say that?”

“Do I need to go into detail?” Callum smiled softly, inching closer. “You’re so kind and supportive, and-”

“Stop…” Rayla frowned.

“And you’re so caring, and frankly, you’re-” Callum caught himself as if he was going to say something wrong. _Beautiful. Rayla was just beautiful._

“Stop saying those things about me,” Rayla finally said, growing cold. “I know your game, I know you’re not telling the truth.” Her voice started strong, but quivered towards the end. Callum clenched his jaw.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, but-but-but you’re lying to me. Every time we talk you just lie, and lie, and lie!” Rayla moved away, grimacing at the cold air in between them.

“Lying about… what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know!” Rayla stood, finding her confidence. “You’re lying to gain my trust, you just want what’s best for this dumb project, you don’t actually care about me, or-or anything like that!” She crossed her arms, finding a rhythm. “You’re just protecting my feelings, all you’re doing is softening me up for this project, so I’ll play the way you want me to and I’ll care about music because you want me to, and you’re just being nice to get under my skin and I don’t like it! So stop! Stop building this fake confidence, stop assuring me in something I shouldn’t be assured on. Stop feeding me lies so I’ll like you more! I’m sick of it!”

“Rayla-”

“No! I don’t want to hear any more of it. I don’t want to hear any. More. Lies.”

“Ray…”

“No. I’m done listening to you. I can’t stand how you’ve lied to me, and I almost believed you!”

“Ray, listen-”

“You almost had me, you know. You almost had me liking you, I was so, so close, too.”

“Rayla Eliza Dove, listen to yourself!” Callum stood, a sad smile traced on his lips. 

“What are you smiling about, psycho!”

“Your walls are coming down,” he whispered, coming closer. 

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You’re actually talking to me. You’re saying what you mean. And I love it.” Callum took another step towards her.

“I’m talking about how sick of you I am.”

“No, I don’t think you’re getting it.”

“I don’t think I am either. I think we're done here,” Rayla said, turning to leave.

“No, wait!” Callum grabbed her forearm, pulling her back. “Listen to me. For just a moment.”

Rayla huffed. “You’ve got two minutes.”

“When we first started working together, the very beginning, you didn’t care.”

“Some could argue that’s still true.”

“But it’s not. You got defensive when I complimented you our first time practicing, you made an effort to work with me even if I was being evasive. And why else would you have been in that practice room yesterday if not but to practice and work on this project? You care, Rayla, and it’s wonderful.”

“Stop it with the appraisal, the lies are getting old.”

“But I’m not lying.” Callum moved to put her hands in his, inching closer. “I like you, Rayla, I really, really do. I didn’t at first until… When we practiced, when _you_ practiced, I could almost see parts of you growing more confident. But as soon as the bow left the string, you slouched over, walls up again.”

“I still don’t see your point.”

“Your playing is beautiful. You’re beautiful. But I think you’re afraid.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I think you’re scared that if people see you the way you want them to, if people saw what you were really good at, you wouldn’t be good at it anymore. That’s why you think I’m lying. If I was telling the truth, everything would fall apart.”

“You think you know me?” Rayla snarled through gritted teeth. “You think you have me figured out after a week and a half of talking to one another? You couldn’t be more wrong.” She backed away, dropping Callum’s hands like they’d caught fire.

“Then what is it! Why do you think everything I love about you is a lie?”

“Because _I_ don’t believe it!” Rayla yelled, throwing her hands in exasperation. “I don’t believe I could be good. I don’t believe I could be all those wonderful things you say about me. I don’t think I’m as smart or as good or as skilled or as talented as you say I am. If I can’t believe it, why should anyone else?” Rayla took a breath, a little shocked that she finally said it out loud. “If I can’t believe it, why should anyone else.”

“You should believe it, because everyone else already does.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, I believe it. I believe that you’re amazing. I believe that you’re talented, kind, caring, if but a bit harsh sometimes, but so what? You are so uniquely perfect…” Callum stepped closer, studying Rayla’s eyes. “You’re so uniquely… you. And I wouldn’t- I couldn’t imagine wanting it to change.” Callum bit his lips, those butterflies coming back. “Lavender,” he muttered, moving closer yet again. Rayla blushed and let out a little scoff.

“Periwinkle,” she breathed with a slight laugh, giving in to his gravity and taking a step closer.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, barely audible, but no one else needed to hear. “And I mean it.” Their heads leaned into one another, breathing shallow and quiet, hands making their way into the other’s, noses so close together they almost touched.

“You’re quite a character, Glasses,” Rayla whispered as Callum raised a hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin.

“Callum? Rayla? Dad says cookies are done,” a voice said, opening the door a crack.

“Ezran!” Callum yelped, jumping back and slamming his ankle on the leg of the desk. Rayla yelped and took two, three, four steps back, as far away from what was about to happen as possible, blushing profusely. Callum fell to the ground, massaging his ankle. “Don’t you knock!”

“Sorry!” Ezran protested with a shrug. “They’re peanut butter, still warm,” he said as he walked away. Callum stood, sheepish, and brushed off his jeans.

“Shall we?” he squeaked. Rayla nodded, cheeks red as roses. 

“Yep, yep, yep. Sounds cool.” Together, in blissful teen awkwardness, they walked into the kitchen, knowing they’d have to pretend what was about to happen _hadn’t_ been about to happen. But neither of them would stop thinking about it. Neither of them could stop wondering if what was going to happen was real, a joke, or simply make-believe. 

Callum did end up going to the doctor. He pulled Harrow aside after Rayla left, saying he thought something was wrong with his hand. It hurt to play, and Callum said he didn’t want it to get worse. He said that getting it looked at was the safest thing to do. 

The actual trip was all a blur. He only vaguely remembered sitting in the waiting room with Harrow, the numbness when they called Callum’s name, the wait. He remembered the doctor lecturing about his practice habits, about his lack of vitamin D (Callum didn’t go outside much) and worsening eyesight (Lots of late night practicing ruining the light receptors, or something like that). He partially remembered the doctor writing him a prescription for a new pair of glasses. Thicker lenses. He somewhat remembered the instructions to never practice after dark without adequate lighting. And worst of all he remembered the doctor telling him he needed to take a break from playing altogether for a while. He’d hyper-extended the muscles in his wrist and pinky from shifting down the fingerboard too much. His muscles were stretched out and tired. They weren’t being given the time they needed to rest and heal and rebuild. If he continued to practice on the injury, he’d probably never be able to play again. He’d been told to wear a brace for a month. He couldn’t play for two.

Once he was locked away in his room, he did end up calling Rayla.

“Couldn’t get enough of me?” Rayla said through the phone. Callum could almost hear her smirking.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he laughed a bit, still numb and in a daze. “But I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Rayla asked slowly. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with the topic of… them. Together.

“So… I went to the doctor.”

“How’d that go?”

“I’m in a brace. I can’t play for our project on Friday. I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Rayla paused for a moment. “Don’t be,” she finally said. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I feel awful,” Callum complained, his senses returning. “Please let me know if there's any way I could help?”

“There… might be. See you in class tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Rayla tossed her phone in front of her, losing it in the folds of her blanket as she flopped back onto her bed. It was times like these when she hated being right.

**Wednesday; 2 Days Until the Deadline**

Callum walked into class late that day. Everyone was broken into groups, talking and laughing with their friends, or playing through their pieces. The general happy mood in the room seemed like an insult.

He slipped into the practice room where Rayla had already set up her viola and stand. She smiled as soon as he walked in. The troubles of the world melted away when Callum saw her smile.

“There you are!” she said. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss you for the world,” he replied, closing the door behind him. Rayla paused at the remark.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Uh-” Callum stepped back and blushed, suddenly at a loss. Rayla studied him, finding that heat rose to her own cheeks as well. 

“So, I had this idea,” Rayla tried, trying not to sound awkward. “What if we transposed your part to a cello part, then Ezran could play with me?”

“That’s… an idea, for sure,” Callum said, tapping the tip of his nose in thought.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“The problem is you’ve been working too hard for some middle school cellist to upstage you like this,” Callum said, pulling his copy of his part out of his bag. “I think you should play my part, let Ezran take yours.”

“You can’t possibly be serious,” Rayla said, taking the sheet music with trepidation. “You’ve heard me play, right?”

“And you’re amazing. I know you can do it,” Callum smiled, making it impossible for Rayla to even want to turn his idea down.

“I don’t know-”

“C’mon, just try it. For me?” He shrugged real high, plastering his best puppy-style beg on his face.

“Fiiiiinnneee,” Rayla groaned, “But if it sucks, we’re taking the ‘L’ on this project.” When Callum didn’t respond, she started. She was shaky and soft at first, but slowly grew confident. She even played out the dynamics, phrasing each line, giving each note character as best she could. Callum closed his eyes and pictured those ribbons again, dancing and flipping back and forth in an ever so meticulous dance, so carefully calibrated yet so unpredictable. She nailed the trills, she hit each extended accidental like it was her job. She sounded amazing. 

When the piece came to an end, Callum opened his eyes again with the widest grin in the world. But Rayla still looked unsettled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Rayla shook her head.

“All while I was playing my part, I felt like something was missing, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. I wasn’t sure if I was crazy, or if I just hadn’t heard the parts together enough. But after playing this part, I’m realizing the issue is me.”

“I don’t get it, you sounded perfect.”

“You can’t deny the sound was a little… bland,” Rayla huffed. Callum could tell this was something she’d obviously given a lot of thought to. And he thought he had a solution.

“I think I can help,” He said, reaching into a forgotten pocket in his backpack. Inside, he felt the smooth surface of a plastic easter egg, filled with beads. He pulled it out and handed it to Rayla, who was pretty confused.

“What is that,” she said, jabbing it with her bow.

“It’s an egg.”

“Well, duh, but what’s it doing in you backpack.”

“When I was first learning how to play vibrato on viola, I was having trouble getting my hand and fingers in the right shape to keep the instrument steady. I used this to help.” Rayla took the egg in her hand, giving it a shake. “You hold it like this-” He placed the egg at the base of her palm, using his hand to curl her fingers on top of it, as if she was holding an instrument. “Now, it’s all in the wrist. Keep your arm steady, but shake your wrist back and forth.” 

Rayla did. The egg started shaking in tempo, and Rayla started to smile. 

“Is this seriously all there is to a vibrato?” she joked, shaking faster.

“It sure helps!” Callum laughed. He found himself staring at her again, watching as she tried the wrist movement on her viola, her sound immediately improving. She was so smart. And funny. And yeah really, really pretty. After these past few days, Callum wasn’t afraid of the notion of finding her pretty. More than pretty- Callum saw Rayla as _beautiful._ He believed it to be true, and he hoped she believed it too. Though, however in-touch with his feelings he may have been, he still got butterflies in his stomach when she laughed. And when she caught him staring.

“What?” Rayla asked, a smile still traced on her lips.

“Nothing!” Callum blushed. “Nothing. I just… really like watching you play.” 

Rayla found herself studying Callum. She remembered the lies she thought he’d been telling. How could someone like him tell a lie? How could someone as kind and pure of heart as him tell a lie?

“I brought something for you, too,” Rayla said, breaking the silence. She put her viola on the ground and dug into her case, pulling out a spool of yellow, lavender, and green ribbon. 

“What am I gonna do with ribbon? No offense-”

“No, it’s okay, I’d be confused to. Give me your arm,” Rayla instructed, pulling out a pair of scissors. Callum offered his right arm. “No, your other arm.” With hesitance, Callum lifted his left arm. The one in the brace. 

“I’m still confused,” Callum muttered.

“Let me explain then, Glasses. The periwinkle ribbon is to represent me, okay?” She cut a length of ribbon and tied it in a bow around one of the velcro straps of his brace. 

“Lavender.”

“Let me finish. The green is to represent you.” She tied a green ribbon on the other velcro strap, so they sat next to one another. “And the yellow one…” She cut the ribbon, though this one was noticeably smaller and thinner than the lavender and green ribbons. “Yellow is a color that represents happiness. And I never thought I’d be happy playing viola, let alone viola with you, but…” She threaded the yellow in between a loop from the green bow and a loop from the lavender one, tying the yellow in a knot so that the green and lavender were tied together. “But you made viola something that makes me happy. And you made me happy. Make me happy.” Rayla stuffed the ribbons back into her bag, avoiding his gaze, and Callum pulled his arm closer, staring in awe at the ribbons on display. “Besides, I figured that a brace would be boring and not all that fun to have to look at, so I figured-”

“Rayla, I love it,” Callum whispered, looking up at her. “It’s so thoughtful, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t worry about it-” Rayla couldn’t finish the sentence, finding herself instead being squished in what was probably the tightest hug ever. Rayla wrapped her arms around the boy, smiling.

“You’re too good, you know that?” Callum said, muffled by her shoulder.

“You keep saying that.”

“It’s true.” Callum pulled back but didn’t let go of Rayla’s arms. “You’re too good,” he said, softer. Rayla leaned in closer, knowing with her whole heart that Callum was telling the truth.

“I could say the same about you,” she countered, her eyes dancing between his. They came closer together, heads almost touching. Rayla started counting the freckles speckled across Callum’s nose. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, barely audible, his hand resting on her cheek. Rayla’s hand found its way to the back of Callum’s neck, where she pulled him in closer, pressing her lips against his. She closed her eyes, letting everything else melt away, savoring the spot where his hand held her cheek.

The bell rang to end first period overhead, but the two didn’t flinch. They pulled apart slowly, heads resting against the other’s.

With a smile, Callum whispered; “I take that as a yes?”

Rayla practiced as soon as she got home that day. She hugged her viola case the whole bus ride home, smiling to no one in particular as she looked out the window. She’d kissed him. She had _actually_ kissed him. And he’d kissed her back! She hopped off the bus with new glee, holding that stupid egg in her hand, shaking it back and fourth as she walked up her driveway and into her room. When she unpacked her viola, however, things started to change. For starters, her music, which was normally kept in the front pocket, wasn’t there. She probably left it on the stand in the practice room- she could _see_ it sitting there. Great- just great. She didn’t even have a printer at home. If she wanted to print out a new copy before tomorrow, she’d have to go to the library to do it. The next bus to the library left in half an hour at a stop ten minutes from her house. Maybe she could bring her viola and practice in a private study room and ask Runaan or Ethari to bring her home to save on bus fares. But one look at her viola, and suddenly the idea of practicing was obsolete. Her bridge had snapped in half. The strings sat unapologetically lethargic with no support, askew over the wooden halves of the bridge that was supposed to hold them up. Great. Rayla sighed and pulled the viola out of the case, opening a different compartment in hopes that there was a spare. Nope. 

So she had no music. No viola. A project due in a day and a half with no means of perfecting it. What was she supposed to do now?

She glanced at her phone, wondering if she could call Callum. Maybe he had a spare bridge, or maybe she could go to his house and practice instead of the library. But that didn't seem like such a good idea. They had just… their relationship had just started, she didn’t want one of the first things that happened to be her asking for things. That just made her feel selfish. No, she wouldn’t ask Callum for anything. Maybe there was a cheap bridge at the music store in town. So much for saving money.

Within a few minutes, Rayla had formulated a plan. She had a total of twenty-three dollars and thirty-one cents, which was enough for one bus ticket and a painfully cheap bridge replacement. As she walked to the bus stop, she crossed her fingers and prayed there would be one for twenty-two bucks.

The bus stopped at the library, letting Rayla with her broken viola off. Once inside, Rayla made a beeline for the monitor right next to the printer. She typed in the name of the composition program in the web browser, hoping the password she thought she had set was the right one. It was, thank God. She clicked print on the document, watching as it printed four pages of music that she’d written. That she and Callum had written. 

“Ma’am?” said a voice. Rayla didn’t hear. “Ma’am? At the printer?”

Rayla whipped around to see who was talking. “Yes?”

“Ma’am, you just used the color printer, can you pay for that?”

“Uhhh-”

“It’s a quarter page.”

“But I printed in black and white-”

“Yes, but it's still the color printer,” said the librarian. Rayla frowned.

“But I printed balck and white pages-”

“I’m sorry kid, but rules are rules. How many pages did you print?”

“Four,” Rayla sighed as she fished a dollar from her wallet and handed it to the librarian. Rayla picked her pages up off the printer and scowled when realized she’d printed the wrong part. Wordlessly she slipped another dollar on the librarian’s desk as the new copy was printing. This day just kept getting better. 

As she left, she stuck her papers on a table in a private study room and hoped whoever came along would get the hint that someone was using it. In a rush, she left the library and practically ran to the music shop across the plaza.

It was in a sketchy place- the back door in an alleyway in between a hair salon and a Salsaritas, making the whole place smell like extra queso. However, that music shop had existed for as long as she’d been alive. She vaguely remembered her mom bringing her to the shop when she was in fourth grade, picking out her first viola. Rayla had been much smaller, and that viola had since been sold, but back then, she was still starry-eyed for every adventure. Even the ones she grew up to hate (or love again, in this case).

As she reached the music shop, she saw the owner locking up and turning to leave.

“No, no wait!” Rayla called, rushing forward. The man didn’t stop. “Please!”

“We’re closed, go home,” said the owner, still walking away.

“No, please, you don’t understand,” Rayla followed him, “I have a project due in two days, and I just got new music for it and I really, really need to practice, but my bridge is broken and I need a new one as soon as possible, please help me out!” She caught up to him as he reached the edge of the sidewalk. Begrudgingly, he turned around, studying the kid in front of him. She looked frazzled, to say the least. She was clutching a bright orange viola case with a green ribbon ties around the handle. Interesting color choice.

“You need a new bridge?” he asked. The girl nodded, out of breath. “How much you got?”

Rayla set down her case and reached into her wallet, holding out her measly twenty dollars that was mostly comprised of fives and ones.

“Is it enough?” she asked as the guy took the was of cash and started counting. He glanced up at the girl again, who was obviously troubled. 

“I can make it work,” the guy said, taking a step past Rayla and towards his music shop. “Follow me.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you so much,” Rayla exhaled, trotting after the shop owner. “I’m so sorry to bother you, and I would have come sooner, except I haven’t been here in a while, and I wasn’t exactly sure when you closed. I’ve been rushing around for the past half hour or so, so I’m really grateful I caught you, though I’m sorry you couldn’t go home right away-”

“Kid, do you always talk this much?” the shop owner asked as he unlocked the door. Rayla thought for a second.

“No,” she decided. “Normally I’m very quiet. I guess I’m just in a jittery mood tonight.”

Inside, Rayla found herself staring around in awe. If Callum didn’t know about this place already, he would love it. There were half-naked instruments hung everywhere. Some were missing faces, some were missing strings, some were missing the fine tuners at the bottom, some were cracked, some were obviously broken beyond repair and kept for parts, and the entire place smelled like sawdust and rosin. 

“Set your instrument on my desk, I’ll be back in a second,” said the shop owner. Rayla set her case on the ground and opened it, putting the viola on the front desk, which was the only surface in the shop that wasn’t covered in dust and wood chippings. The strings flopped all over, making the instrument look broken. Rayla dropped the two halves of the bridge on the desk next to it and waited.

The shop owner came back with a handful of bridges, dumping them in a pile on his desk. He picked up the broken halves of Rayla’s old bridge and scoffed. 

“You actually played with this thing on your instrument?” he asked, turning it over in his fingers.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s way too tall. You’d have trouble hitting high notes with this thing, because you can’t push the strings down all the way.”

Rayla thought back to Callum’s part, with the crazy shifting, and how he made it look so easy, but for her it had been difficult. Maybe the broken bridge was a good thing after all?

The shop maker tried on four or five different bridges, plucking the strings and playing a few scales, but was ultimately dissatisfied. 

“I don’t like any of these for you,” he grumbled, trying on a new one.

“I don’t really have a preference,” Rayla assured him. “It’s a school instrument anyways-”

“But you plan on playing it, don’t you?” he said, playing through another scale. “Ah, now _this_ one I like,” he said. “You try.”

Rayla picked up her viola and played through a scale, however out of tune, shocked at how much better her instrument sounded. Regardless of the fact that none of the strings were in tune, it just sounded more _open._ Nothing rattled or squeaked, and the strings felt right under her fingers.

“Wow,” she said, staring at the viola. “Thank you so much!” The shop owner smiled. 

“I’m glad I was able to help. Come back and tell me how the project goes, will ya?”

Rayla nodded. “Absolutely.”

“And if you ever decide to buy an instrument…” the shop owner winked, suddenly sly. “I’d be willing to make a deal.”

Back at the library, Rayla rushed up to the study room, hoping it was still vacant. As she moved, she heard someone call her name, but decided to ignore it. She had places to be, and chances were she was just hearing things.

The room was still empty, and Rayla quickly shut herself inside. She spread the pages across the table and started tuning her viola, praying the strings wouldn’t slip out of tune. Her blood was still pumping fast after having rushed around for so long, and she was having a hard time calming down. She played through the part rather quickly, missing notes everywhere. In the middle of another run through, she heard a knock at the door. Great- now what? 

She turned and opened it to find Callum standing and waiting. As soon as he saw her, he smiled. 

“I thought It was you,” he said. He then noticed Rayla’s expression and asked “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, opening the door wider. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to transpose the piece for cello, and I couldn’t find my laptop charger,” he replied, stepping inside. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, yes, everything is fine.”

“Just fine?” Callum raised an eyebrow. With a slight smirk, Rayla rolled her eyes.

“My bridge broke in half. And I left my music at school. So I rushed here to print it out, and then went to the music shop across the street to get a new bridge, but I got there just as they were closing, but thank God he helped me anyways-”

“Why didn’t you just call me? I had an extra- and I picked up your music, too.” He slung his bag off his shoulder and put it on the table, pulling out the sheet music Rayla had left behind. “I meant to give it to you at lunch, but I couldn’t find you.” Tentatively, Rayla took the music, slightly dumbfounded.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, looking through the sheets at all the written in markings.

“How could I be bothered by helping you?” Callum smiled. “Don’t worry about asking for things, alright? I want to help.”

“You’re too good, you know that?” Rayla smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

**Thursday; 1 Day Until the Deadline**

Ezran was a crazy good cellist. Callum was always extremely proud whenever he heard his little brother play. He was amazing at almost any piece put in front of him, and already had music scholarships lined up down the block. But his exceptional skill on the instrument didn't stop him from being a kid. He was still clueless and had a generally short attention span, and an infamous love for harrow’s jelly tarts. He had a pet fish named Zym. The fish was supposed to eat smaller kinds of fish, so Ezran put another one in his tank, but Zym didn't eat it, opting instead for basic fish food. Ezran named the little fish “Bait” as a cruel joke, and Callum thought it was hilarious. The kid liked being a kid. 

But his childlike tendencies weren’t any consolation when Rayla came over after school to practice with him. She still found herself slightly intimidated that some eleven year-old was already looking at colleges. 

“I’m just a little nervous, is all,” she said, pacing in Callum’s room while they waited for Ezran to get home from school. “I mean, I’ve heard him play, he’d better than Ms. Opeli.”

“Ray, I think you’ll be okay,” Callum chuckled, sitting on his bed.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have put him on the first viola part? He can play it better than I can, that’s for sure.”

“You’re thinking too much, Lavender,” Callum said with a smile.

“What about it, Glasses?” She sighed, still pacing. “I just think we made a mistake. He’s so much better than I am-”

“Ray-”

“Are we _really_ sure-”

“Rayla-”

“He’s killer on the cello, and I just think-”

“Rayla Eliza Dove, you’re going to be amazing.” Callum stood, catching her shoulder so her pacing came to a stop. “I am one-hundred percent certain I want you playing the first viola part.” From down the hall, the two heard the front door open and close. Rayla looked over at Callum, worried.

“Are you sure I’m not gonna ruin it?” she whispered.

“I’m certain.” 

“And what if I mess up?”

Callum kissed her cheek. “Then mess up with confidence!”

Callum left the room when Ezran and Rayla started practicing, opting instead to hear it for the first time in class tomorrow. As he sat, reading on the couch in the living room, he realized he hadn’t heard it from an outsider’s standpoint. Sure, he heard the measly electronic versions on his laptop, but when he heard it with real instruments, he’d always been playing one of them.

“May I join you?” Harrow said, walking into the living room and sitting in an armchair across the way. Callum nodded, continuing with his book and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “They sound good,” Harrow continued. Callum nodded offhandedly.

“Can’t wait to hear them,” he said, turning a page.

“Rayla sounds really good, especially. Did she learn how to do a vibrato?”

Callum smiled. “Yeah, she did.”

There was a short pause, in which the only sounds were Callum turning the pages of his book and Harrow sipping his coffee. If he listened closely (which he tried not to do), he could hear the two of them playing together. He loved that his two favorite people could make such beautiful music together,

“So, how about Rayla? Are you two… you know?”

“Uh, what?” Callum asked, snapping his book shut. He and Rayla were still new and kind-of unofficial. They hadn’t told anybody… right?

“You’ve been having her over a lot,” Harrow remarked. “I was just curious.”

“Oh!” Callum laughed, nervous, speaking all in one breath. “Ha-ha- yeah, I guess I have. We have a project due tomorrow that I obviously can’t participate in and we’ve been trying to keep it together so it’s just taking a lot of extra time and whatnot, so she’s been having to practice a lot and I’ve been helping her with her part because she wasn’t all that comfortable with it at first but I think she’s coming around which is great haha and she’s growing a lot more confident in her playing and oh, my, it sure is hot in here-”

“Callum,” Harrow chuckled, “You and Rayla are…?”

He tugged at his shirt collar. “Yeah,” he squeaked. “We are.”

“I like her,” Harrow leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. Callum exhaled with relief, opening his book again.

“Me too, Dad.” 

Callum didn’t realize what he had said, but Harrow beamed. 

9:26 p.m.

**_Rayla: What happens if Ms. Opeli asks us what the name of our piece is?_ **

_Callum: We tell her a name, I guess. Right?_

**_Rayla: Well yeah, but what should we call it?_ **

_Callum: You made the piece amazing. I think you should name it._

**_Rayla: What! No! You helped so much, I couldn’t have done it without you. You should pick the name._ **

_Callum: What if we both name it?_

**_Rayla: How would that work?_ **

_Callum: Well, what does the piece remind you of?_

**_Rayla: I guess…_ **

**_Rayla: It reminds me of the woods. A forest at night, with the moon shining through the leaves, making patches of light on the ground._ **

_Callum: That is so beautiful, Ray, I love it!_

**_Rayla: What about you?_ **

_Callum: It’s always reminded me of silver ribbons. Like ribbon dancers, waving them around as they intertwine in the air. The piece kind of resembles that, so that’s what I always picture._

**_Rayla: Well, aren’t we philosophical tonight?_ **

_Callum: Is that such a bad thing?_

**_Rayla: I think… I have a name for the piece._ **

_Callum: Yay! What is it?_

Callum smiled to himself as he read the name. She was perfect.

**Friday; The Deadline!**

“You’re going to be amazing,” Callum said to Rayla as she unpacked her viola.

“I hope you’re right,” she said with a sigh, glancing over at Ezran, who was unpacking on the other side of the room. “He’s a good kid.”

“I know,” Callum smiled. “I love him a lot.”

“You know, he and I were talking, and he told me he wants to be a veterinarian.”

“Yeah, he loves animals. Did he tell you about Zym and Bait?”

“He did,” Rayla laughed, “He talked about them a lot.” She paused. “But you know, him talking about wanting to be a vet gave me an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I think… I want to be a vet, too.”

“Lavender, that’s amazing!” Callum smiled, giving her a huge hug, viola in between them.

“You think so?”

“Anything you do is going to be amazing,” Callum said as they broke apart. “I think it suits you.” Rayla smiled, making Callum’s stomach do flip-flops. “I’m gonna miss having you in orchestra class, next year,” he said. 

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Rayla started. “A lot of doctors are musicians on the side.”

“You’re staying?!”

“I’m staying!”

“Rayla!” Callum yelled, hugging her again. “That’s _amazing_! You’re amazing!”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, placing a kiss on his lips. “Wish me luck!”

“Not that you need it,” Callum waved as she and Ezran took their spots at the front of the room. Neither of them heard the whispers going around the room. The class had predicted it, even if Callum and Rayla hadn’t.

The two started playing. Rayla played stronger than ever, and Ezran was perfect as always. Callum closed his eyes, picturing those ribbon dancers, twirling in circles, moonlight glinting and reflecting from the silver ribbons as they danced through the air, imagining the dancers in a waltz, moving in circles around each other. He pictured more than just dancers and ribbons. He pictured magic encasing them, surrounding them. He imagined a world of dragons and mysteries and endless wonder. He imagined spells and mysticalities, and he imagined he and Rayla in the thick of it, dancing together in the moonlight. Callum opened his eyes again, glancing down at the green and lavender bows still decorating his brace, tied together by a yellow string of happiness. He watched Rayla play with a proud smile. She was so perfect.

“That was great!” Ms. Opeli said as the class applauded when the piece came to a close. “What do you call it?”

Rayla beamed over at Callum, pride plastered on her face. “The Silvergrove.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is my longest one shot so far, and I'm really proud of it!!! If I forgot a piece of music terminology or if you're confused about something, please comment! I'd be happy to clarify.
> 
> A lot of this fic was based off of my own experiences as a freshman in orchestra. I, however, was first chair cello, not viola, but everyone jokes about hating violas, so I had to give them the spotlight on this one. In orchestra one year, our final project was to arrange or compose a piece to perform in front of the class for a product grade. Granted, I didn't get paired up with my least favorite person and then end up falling in love, but all the same, I took the concept as far as I could!
> 
> Callum's injury- a hyper-extended pinky- sounds pretty tame, but can actually cause lots of problems in the wrist and forearm. Shoutout to my violin friend who had to deal with this! So sorry, Angela, but your troubles turned into a pretty good story! Thanks for the inspiration lol.
> 
> There are a lot of other little bits that relate to me and my life as well, but I'll leave out some of the details since it's more personal. However, I did notice that I ended up mirroring some of the arcs from the show! Callum struggles with losing the one thing he's good at- in canon, that's the primal stone, but here, its music. Rayla struggles with self-doubt, both on screen and in the fic, so I thought that was pretty neat.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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